“Don’t do this to me,” Evan Harris muttered under his
His sports car lurched one last time, shoving him against
the steering wheel, knocking the wind out of him, before it
came to an abrupt stop and died.
“C’mon, start.” He turned the key and pressed the gas pedal
several times, but the motor remained dead.
“Shit!” He slammed his fist against the steering wheel. He
fished his cell phone from the backpack on the passenger seat
and hesitated for a moment. Who could he call? Nobody knew
where he was headed. He'd jumped into his car and driven away
without even leaving a message for his assistant. He let out a
long sigh. Maybe Triple A. He started to punch the numbers
when he noticed the No Service Available in the
“Great. Just fucking great.” He threw his cell phone back
in the bag. Leaning back, he ran his hands through his hair in
frustration. He looked out the windshield to see nothing but a
great expanse of short grass prairie and scrub vegetation. The
sun’s weak rays barely pierced through the thick, low hanging
gray clouds. At least the hard rain that had followed him
since he left the highway had lightened to only a soft
What the hell had he been thinking when he took this
shortcut? Rubbing his temples, he frowned. But that was
exactly the problem, wasn’t it? He’d not been thinking.
Tension and unease had slowly built inside him for days. But
this morning he’d awakened with a sense of restlessness he
couldn’t explain. The urge to get away from New York—and his
work—had grown as the hours went by. This morning, before he’d
had time to consider what he was doing, he’d phoned his
partner to take over the photo shoot he'd scheduled. Then he’d
packed a light bag, jumped in his car, and slammed his foot
down on the accelerator like a possessed madman. The car ate
up the miles. The need to drive away had been all consuming.
Yet, the edginess hadn’t eased once he’d hit the highway. On
the contrary, it’d grown with each mile. Mixed with a sense of
urgency. Until he’d meandered onto the country road.
“Yeah, well, now I’m stuck in the middle of nowhere,” he
muttered. Opening the glove compartment, he pulled out a road
map he kept there for emergencies like this. As he studied the
map carefully, his frown deepened. Once he’d gotten out of New
York, he’d been compelled to head south, that much he
remembered. Yet he couldn’t remember exactly when or where
he’d gotten off the highway.
Tossing the map aside, he threw his head against the
headrest, eyes closed, and swore under his breath.
Unbelievable. He was lost. Really lost.
You are not lost.